


Karkat ==> Cope

by fonduaunoir



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Self Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-24 01:42:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/628884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fonduaunoir/pseuds/fonduaunoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Karkat Vantas and you cannot take this much longer.<br/>It's going to kill you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Karkat ==> Cope

It hurts. Dear lord it hurts as you drag the metal across your already sliced wrist. You take the razor away from your cut skin, watching the blood bead at the new new slash, mesmerized as the crimson overflows.  
 _freak_

You place it back against the skin and press down, flinging it across your arm before you can hesitate too much. You bite down on your lip, and look down. The skin gapes a bit and the blood beads slowly, forming a trail down your arm. You have to admit you feel calmed at the sight. 

_unwanted_

The hot pain bubbles again in your stomach as you yank the blade violently it across the skin of you arm. A different kind of pain fills your body as the skin is cut open. A much more tolerable type. 

_just go kill yourself_

You grit your teeth, hanging your head, slashing again. And again. And again, trying to banish the emotion. Trying to forget the way they had tripped you and sent you sprawling in the middle of the hallway today. Trying not to remember the way they had laughed at you and called you dumb ass.  
You were completely alone, practically no friends, no family who cared enough about you existence more than to provide you with basics, no support what so ever. 

_loser_

Your brown hair hide your eyes, brimming with tears at the emotion overwhelming you. It hurt so much. You continued time after time to swipe the razor, wanting the white hot sting to clear your mind. You just wanted it to stop.  
Eventually your hand grew weaker, and your silent sobs stronger. Your arm was searing and there was a damp puddle on the towel you had to catch the blood. You picked it up and pressed it against your torn arm, staunching the bleeding. You hung you head and let your tears fall. as unhealthy as it was, it was what you had to do. The only way to keep your sanity. To work up the pain tolerance you would need. 

You fold it, hiding it behind you dresser as usual. The blood had seeped through to the front of your jeans and you cursed under you breath. More laundry to add to the bloody pile. You sigh heavily and slipped out of the pants, throwing them into the corner. Grabbing your water bottle, you wet the half of another towel that was clean, pressing it to your arm and wiping away the clotted blood. 

You like to keep it neat as best you could. 

When you were finished, and the wounds had finally stopped seeping blood, you pulled your turtle neck sleeve down and held the cuff, going to find a new pair of pants.  
Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you cannot take this much longer. You cannot take the constant whispers, the laughter, the snide remarks and shoving in the hallways.  
It's going to kill you. 


End file.
